


Joy Like Blood Rushing Through Your Heart

by gala_apples



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation Kink, Polyamory, Pre-Season/Series 03, mild kink shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Steve wishes he didn't like what he can't stop fantasizing about. Nancy and Jonathan are up for indulging much worse than sex at a certain time of the month.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Joy Like Blood Rushing Through Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'bodily fluids' for seasonofkink.

“You ever...”

For the millionth time Steve can’t bring himself to finish. It’s a conversation he almost had with Tommy and the other guys more times than he can count, before he realised what fucking twatburgers they all were. Really, it’s a good thing he never said it out loud, certain now of how much shit they would have given him. He’s not surprised that the idea’s come to the surface again. Steve’s had some of his best idle thoughts in the afterglow. Post sex conversation is what takes things from good to seriously supreme, in his book. That his fingers are splayed on the sweaty back of a boy -sometimes a boy and a girl at once- doesn’t change much. Except this particular thought? Yeah. No. Can’t safely go there.

Jonathan isn’t used to seeing reservations from him, Steve knows. He works hard to cultivate his image, and that includes no hesitation, no surrender. Leave it all on the court, as Coach liked to say. Jonathan’s not a pure opposite. He’s antisocial, keeps to himself, but the things he cares about he does regardless of other people’s opinions. It’s an important stance, when you want to date two people at once. Maybe he’s thrown off by the rare self-censoring, or maybe he just doesn’t have his own stray thought to throw out into the air. Either way, Jonathan doesn’t let it go. “Ever what?”

He shouldn’t say it. He should _not_. Steve’s already insanely lucky enough to have found two people up for having a permanent threeway. It takes a certain kind of person to be that weird in bed, but kinky for multiple bodies isn’t the same as kinky for specific acts. And he knows his idea is out there. He’s snuck into the red light room of the video store, same as any other Hawkins High Schooler worth his salt. There’s not a single VHS in the whole room offering the act. Just because he can’t get it out of his head doesn’t mean he should ruin everything by saying it out loud.

“Ever what?” Jonathan repeats. For the life of him, Steve can’t figure out if Jonathan’s giving him more time to properly phrase whatever inanity he thinks Steve’s about to blurt out, or if it’s sharper than that. Jonathan and Nancy can both be bleeding edge sharp, far more so than any other girl Steve’s hooked up with. It’s probably unhealthy, how much Steve likes getting jabbed by their angles.

“Just... you ever wanna have sex with a girl when she’s having her period?”

Jonathan lifts his head from the pillow so he can properly look at him, then immediately ruins it by closing one eye to squint at him. “Uh. No.”

“You’re bad at this trusted confidante thing, you know,” Steve says archly. The tone helps hide how much he wants to throw up, he thinks. He hopes.

“Uh. I mean. Um. It’s not bad? You just asked if I did. And I’d never. But I guess it could be artistic. It would look good on film. Streaks of passion on fabric and skin.” Jonathan gets that thousand yard stare he has when he’s thinking about composition. Someday Jonathan’s going to go to a great art school. Not for a few years, deadbeat Lonnie didn’t give him a cent for college, so he has a job at the newspaper. Even if he had money, Steve doubts he’d leave before Will graduated. Nancy’s reasons are different, easier to become a big fish reporter in a small pond. Once she’s got credentials then she can buff up her resume and move somewhere bigger. Steve’s totally fucked for a career, of course, but he tries not to think about lifelong minimum wage too much.

“Yeah. Uh. Can we just forget I said anything?”

Jonathan arches his head from the pillow again, this time to give Steve a nice plundering kiss. Steve returns it with enthusiasm. The worst case scenario, declarations of disgust and perversion, didn’t happen. That doesn’t mean he wants to linger on this awful fantasy any longer. He’s already spent so much time worrying about it. Now that he has confirmation it’s not hot, just decent for an avant-garde photo gallery he needs to put it away. What better method than seeing if Jon’s up for another round?

Betrayal! with seventeen exclamation marks is what screams through Steve’s head when Nancy approaches him at Scoops Ahoy the next day, and after the standard hello kiss says, “so Jonathan says you want to have sex during my period?”

“Oh my god, and that’s my cue to leave,” Robin groans. She takes a few steps towards Employees Only, turns and comes back. “Do recommend period orgasms though. But I’m out, you creepy ass exhibitionists.”

Robin, Will, Joyce and Dustin are the only people who know they’re a threesome. Jonathan doesn’t keep secrets from his family, Dustin is a nosy little shit, and Robin recognized the queerness from miles away and outed herself so they could bond. Will and Dustin are loosely happy for them, in that they don’t really think about it. Robin is mostly cool with it, but thinks they all have deeply ingrained exhibitionist and voyeuristic fetishes. Which is bullshit, because if that was true Steve wouldn’t currently feel like he’s fucking dying, talking about this in public.

“Jonathan should keep his fucking mouth shut,” Steve replies.

“So then you don’t want to?”

Steve thinks about lying, even as his face winces without permission and makes his stance obvious. Fucking Nancy, sharp as a broken glass on the floor. She knows exactly what’s happening, and Steve only has two options. There’s the truth. And then there’s the lie, and fucking praying that Nancy and Jonathan pretend to believe him even though he knows they know.

“I know it’s weird, Nance-”

“I don’t keep a calendar of it, but it’s pretty regular. My next is in about two weeks. Usually I use the time to catch up on research, but we can go on a date night, if you want.”

“I-”

Nancy smiles at him. Steve can practically feel her soothing his ruffled feathers. “It’s not like we have to pencil it in. We all see each other most nights anyway.”

It’s true. Their day jobs leave ample room for evening dates, mostly all three of them, sometimes various combinations. In theory, they could just be hanging out when the idea of sex happens upon them. In practice, Steve spends the next thirteen days counting down mentally and obsessing over what it might be like while full of mortification that he’s doing so. 

There are good reasons why each of their houses are a good place to hook up. Ms Byers, Joyce she says to call her, she knows who her son is with. She knows everything about both her sons at this point. The Byers, more than most, know the danger of secrets. Steve can’t fathom having that level of caring in a family setting. Half the time he’s not sure if his parents know when his birthday is. It’s comfortable, being in a house where the adult knows what they’re doing and is as cool with it as she is sharing cigarettes and eating cereal for dinner.

Ironically enough it’s that exact depressing abandonment that has the Harrington house down as another good option. Mom and Dad are home maybe a few days a month. He and Jonathan and Nancy can get some true privacy at his place, pretty much the only place they can. If that occasionally leads to sex in the pool, or in the kitchen, all the better.

Nancy’s house is the house least visited. It’s better than Hawkins High School was for hanging out without observing eyes, though they do have to pretend to be completely platonic. It can be a bit of a rush though, trying to get away with it. A stray foot under the dinner table, a grope during a group watch of a rented video when no one is looking, a pillow under the bedpost so it doesn’t squeak. And this experience in specific it’d work. Depending on if the date is the wet and gushy adventure Steve’s fantasized about, and Nancy stains the sheets, Karen Wheeler is exactly the kind of mom that would reassure her daughter about the feminine experience, never even considering it might be sex related. 

As the hours he’s spent thinking about this add up, Steve is careful to not share any of his thoughts on potential location. As far as he’s concerned, the circumstances are Nancy’s choice. Whatever makes her the most comfortable. Also, he can’t let them know he’s put this much thought into it. He’d bet good money they know, the perceptive fuckers, but there’s a difference between them figuring it out and him leaking it.

Then, finally, relief. Both Nancy and Jonathan drop by Scoops Ahoy about two or three times a week. Jonathan can’t justify spending so much a week on fast food desserts, but he’s totally fine with picking up an order of Nancy’s. This time it’s a standard strawberry milkshake with two straws. Nancy will have most of it, but Steve’s sure Jonathan will get more than his fair share of sips. Steve looks forward to once he’s been working here awhile, and has the clout to hand out the occasional free treat. For now he just has to be grateful to Nancy, making their boy happy.

“Nancy says we’re meeting at your house at eight tonight,” Jonathan drops casually as he hands over his cash. “And to put old sheets and a towel on your bed.”

Steve’s knees almost buckle he’s so excited. “Yeah?”

“Yeah?” Jonathan asks back, like he has no idea why Steve might be questioning the reality of the situation.

“And you’re coming over too?” Too late Steve realises Jonathan could take his words the wrong way. It hasn’t always been the smoothest of paths, making sure none of them feel like the third wheel. 

Thankfully Jonathan is smarter than that, at least in this case. “I don’t think it’s as gross as you think other people think it is. I’ll be there.”

Jonathan doesn’t lean in for a kiss, despite both their wishes. It just wouldn’t be the smart thing to do. But his fingers linger over the change Steve passes him, and Steve’s skin tingles.

By the time his boyfriend and girlfriend are over, each getting their own hello make out, Steve’s room has been prepped. He’s dug to the back of the linen closet for old sheets his parents will never notice are gone. The enormous bath sheet laid on top seems like a bit of overkill, but like hell is he ignoring a direct request.

When Steve finally pulls away from Nancy, lips wet and tender, he cuts right to the chase. “Thank you for trying this. I know it’s weird.”

“I’m sure me and Jonathan both have weird things we wanna try. Let’s just do one at a time so things don’t get too crazy.”

Put in that context it’s... almost okay? If Jonathan came up to him tomorrow and said he wanted to tie him up with seven different types of rope, Steve would be down to get lassoed. He might not get the thrill of it, but for Jonathan, he’d try it. 

“Is there anything we should know? Before we start?” For most girls, communication is key. Steve likes extending the shocking courtesy of assuming people understand their own body.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” Nancy replies, punctuating the sentence with another kiss.

Steve feels a hot rush of a feeling he can’t quite name when Nancy pulls down her underwear and sitting in them is a thick pad swollen with blood. It shouldn’t be that hot. No one else finds it this hot. The only thing worse than the bizarre horniness would be sudden indifference. Steve might jump off the quarry if after all this drama it was a hypothetical lust, not real. He’s so busy staring he almost forgets to take off his own clothes, almost doesn’t glance over at Jonathan stripping methodically. Almost. He is a horny teenage boy, after all.

It’s a little weird to sit on a bed half covered in a towel. The terrycloth is rougher than cotton sheets, and it moves freely as everyone reclines. He can already tell it’s going to bunch up like a bastard. But it’s a small price to pay for Nancy’s willingness to be naked with him now. Once everyone’s on the bed, they start to do the tango of getting each participant into their proper position. Nancy being the star tonight, she takes the middle of the bed. Steve goes low, pulling one of Nancy’s legs into his lap. Jonathan goes high, sitting nearly at the head of the bed. Steve would be envious of the position perfect to play with her beautiful breasts, if he didn’t have a bloody feast laid out before him.

The first thing Steve notices is that she’s wet. Steve can’t remember the last time he touched a girl who was still dry when he got in her pants. That’s the whole point of making out, to make everyone ready for the next step. Thing is, this is a lie. Or, if not a flat lie, a completely unreliable signal. Wet is just Nancy’s natural state right now, full of fluid. He won’t be able to tell, physically, if she’s aroused, so that just means he’ll have to work double time to impress her. He pumps two fingers in and out of Nancy, using the quick crook of digits he knows she likes. Maybe it’s his imagination, but she feels silkier than normal. And what’s _not_ his imagination is the burgundy stain revealed between his second and third knuckles on the out-stroke. The sight of it makes Steve bite his lip. Blood stains have no right being that hot.

If he doesn’t look away soon, he’s going to become obsessed. It’ll ruin him, he knows. Steve does his best to tear his gaze away from his hand at Nancy’s pussy and lands on the next best thing; what his boyfriend is doing to his girlfriend. According to Nancy her nipples are too sensitive to be touched right now, but that doesn’t Jonathan’s given up on breastplay. Instead he’s stroking the delicate crease where underbreast meets chest. It’s good for her, Steve knows. It’s always good when Nancy breaks out in those despite-being-sweaty goosebumps. Means they’re doing the right thing.

“Steve. Steve,” Nancy gasps. “Touch him.”

It’s Nancy’s most oft-requested thing, that he interrupt what he’s doing with her to do something to Jonathan. At first Steve thought it was part of the whole no-third-wheel concern, that she was doing it for his sake. Now he knows better. Nancy finds it sexy when Steve gets gay with Jonathan. Which is fine, obviously, it’s not like Steve’s opposed. 

When Steve withdraws his hand with intent to crawl up the bed and make out with Jonathan again, maybe suck his dick a little, there’s something on his index finger. It’s black, lumpy, the consistency of jello. It takes an absurdly long time to place it as a clot. He realises it right about when Nancy looks at him looking, and blushes and groans. Steve figures he’s about three seconds from either an apology or an angry rant about how she’s got nothing to be ashamed of, and decides to head her off at the pass. “Hot. Do you have any more?”

“I don’t know. You don’t count them like baseball cards.” It’s a just dumb enough question to get her back in her standard ‘exasperated but happy’ mood. Steve likes the look of it on her, and has a vested interest in keeping her like that. If he occasionally has to play up the buffoonery, well, it’s not like he’s the sharpest tool in the shed anyway.

There’s a part of him that wants to lick it off his finger, but he doesn’t want to freak anyone out. What’s the worst case scenario anyway, that he likes it or that he doesn’t? Both are their own form of ruination. Spitting it out and making Nancy think her natural body fluids are revolting? Bad. Genuinely enjoying the taste of blood? Also bad. Better to just kneel upwards and grab Jonathan’s face for an open mouthed excessively spitty and show-offy kiss. Better for everyone, truly. Nancy whimpers to see her boys going at it, Jonathan loves an extravagant kiss, and when they finally break apart there are bloody fingerprints on Jonathan’s cheek that nearly have Steve coming untouched.

A sign. It’s all Steve can think, seeing the art in blood smeared against pale skin, just like Jonathan said it might be. Nearly coming just from seeing it is a sign that he might as well fully commit to this _thing_ he has, since it clearly won’t be going away. He’s already imagining jerking off while imagining fucking a bloody faced Jonathan, this _clearly_ won’t be going away any time soon.

“Can Jonathan fuck you?”

He gets surprised reactions from both of them. No doubt they both think this is a Steve-n-Nancy scene, Jonathan in an appreciative but secondary role. It wears off in a second or two, though, because Jonathan and Nancy are nothing if not quick thinkers. In its wake is the standard horny joy of sexual prowess, because really. They’re eighteen, in love and naked in bed. What other emotion would be forerunner?

Steve enjoys watching Jonathan fuck Nancy. Despite his ulterior motives, this one time, he truly does love seeing his girlfriend making it with his boyfriend. If Jonathan does happen to have a ropes kink, Steve won’t mind as long as he’s tied in a position that still lets him watch them. That said, there is a certain amount of biding his time as he lays propped up on one elbow observing Jonathan rutting into Nancy, her hands woven into his hair. He won’t interfere before Nancy comes, but he needs that moment between Nancy and Jonathan’s orgasms to be his.

The instant Nancy’s body tenses to snapping point before releasing into a satisfied puddle, Steve sits up. He draws Jonathan into a kiss, slowly making the brunet turn to face him at better and better an angle until it’s pull out of Nancy or break his ribcage. Jonathan goes for the less excruciating option, though Steve has to grant him not by much. It sucks, exposing a warm and wanting cock to the cruel cold air. Lucky for Jonathan, Steve’s a goddamn pervert. Allowing himself no time for doubt, he shifts until he can engulf Jonathan’s cock with saliva soaked lips. 

It’s hard to say who’s reaction is strongest. Nancy, when Steve manages a glance to the side, is downright blushing. It takes a hell of a lot for Nancy Wheeler to goddamn blush. But then there’s Jonathan unable to help himself from bucking into the heat of his mouth, and Steve knows how much Jonathan cares about sexual etiquette. And if Steve figures himself into the competition, well, shit. He might as well go to jail for how much criminal enjoyment he’s getting out of this. 

It only takes a few sucks for Jonathan to explode over his tongue. So now he’s got blood and ladyjuices and jizz in his mouth, and Steve doesn’t think he can be blamed one bit for reaching down and rubbing his thumb against the sensitive head of his cock. One single pass, and he’s shooting onto the edge of the towel that’s mostly a lump beneath him. 

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “That was. Holy shit.”

“Surprisingly hot,” Nancy comments.

“Yeah,” Jonathan agrees.

“Can we maybe do this next month?” He’s not quite begging. Begging someone for sex implies that it’s not something they’re freely giving, and Steve doesn’t like that thought at all. But there’s no denying that he desperately wants to try this again, some day. Maybe take that final leap after all, and commit to first hand oral, rather than sucking the leavings off Jonathan.

Nancy snorts. “I don’t know what sex ed taught you, but you realize there isn’t an on-off switch, right? I’m not just suddenly done now. I still have three days left of this month. Lighter towards the end, but still.”

“So that means...” He can’t demand a yes, he won’t demand a yes. But fuck, please be a yes.

“It means I’ll meet you here on my lunch break tomorrow, if you can be home?” Nancy twists to look at Jonathan. “You too?”

Steve has a closing shift tomorrow, which Nancy knows. Even if he didn’t, he’d easily call in sick. He can work any day of his life. There are only so many days he can have wildly hot period sex with his girlfriend and boyfriend. When you live a life where coming into contact with a savage human eating beast is a likely occurrence, when you live a life where you can die as quickly as Joyce’s boyfriend did, you have to take your chances at joy.

“I’ll be here with fuckin’ bells on,” Steve exclaims.

“Is that a kink of yours too?” Jonathan laughs.

“No, you little asshole,” Steve laughs back, and launches himself for the world’s manliest naked tickle fight, Nancy sure to indiscriminately cheer them on. Chances for joy, after all.


End file.
